My Day of Remembering IV

Every February 25th, I dedicate a blog-entry to those of my cats who have passed away. I prefer not to commemorate them separately on the anniversaries of their deaths but, rather, together on this day, which is when I suffered my first feline loss.

That loss was Bear-Bear. He died on this day in 2014. He was a very friendly cat, who loved people. I remember well his lean but cheerful face. It always looked honest and open; there was never any craft or cunning to the BB. He spoke the same way; very conversationally, as if he enjoyed small talk because it was a way of making friends. I miss his happy voice even now.

Tungsten, my first cat, was our household’s only top-cat. She was the tiny terror to those cats who stepped out of line, but with me, she was a true lap-cat. She liked to lie curled around my hand, as it rested on her tummy. She would lie facing right when on my lap but, when on my shoulders (to which she would jump, sometimes causing myself a bit of a start), she would face left. The difference may have had to do with stability; I don’t know. I enjoyed having her in ether spot. Tungsten died on March 26th, 2015.

Parker, or Puck, as I sometimes called him, was a strong-willed fellow. He had a temper, and could become angry, though never unmanageable. When we were outside, he on his leash and harness, he would protest my decision to return inside by clawing at the ground and grumbling. He did that inside, too, when something struck him as unsatisfactory. When he had to leave me, on June 2nd, 2019, he didn’t want to go. He enjoyed life too much, and demonstrated his displeasure in no uncertain terms. But I know he went to where there is no reason to grumble - though he probably still does from time to time, to keep in practice.

My friends departed rapidly thereafter, it seems. Raleigh wasn’t with me long. He was an unhappy stray who had edged his way into the feral colony at my work-place. But a cat more accustomed than my Peachy to a sheltered indoor life would have been hard to find. I could always tell when he wanted more food at meal-times. I would take away his emptied dish and, if upon bringing it back, he greeted me with an inquisitive trill while he sat abruptly upright, he wanted more. I liked that he was so quick to enjoy the benefits of civilisation once more. Raleigh died on May 15th, 2020.

Cammie also died on May 15th, 2020. She had adapted very well to her suddenness blindness following a stroke a year before. My princess was not one to let events dictate to her. She was not one to let anything dictate to her. Whenever she was finished with something - a meal, petting, playing - and she wanted no more of it foisted upon her, she would give a gruff, sharp bark: ‘ranh!’ This didn’t change when she lost her sight; Cammie remained imperious to the end. A second stroke made her life impossible, however, and even her peremptory demands couldn’t alter that.

Josie was my pillar; her presence kept the household in order, even when all was chaos. She was with me for more than twelve years. My Chubs enjoyed lying in the sun, like most cats, but I recall seeing her often in the white heat of a summer sun, when the air was already sultry; she sometimes would step out of a heated cat-bed and lie in the torrid light, her white fur bright. How could she stand it? I wondered. She didn’t suffer abnormally from the cold; there were times in our house when she would lie with her bum on the vents to catch the cold bluster of the air conditioning. My old lady liked what she liked. The Great White died on February 17th, 2021.

And Tucker, my roly poly. He was always with me, it seemed, and we were very good friends. I would lose count of the times even in one day that he would amble over to where I was standing and rub against me; sometimes, it was as if he would lose confidence before he got there and turn around. I would catch him up and rub his sides. He was insecure, I think, so I tried never to miss an opportunity to show him I liked him. He would greet me when I returned from work, and accompany me at dinner; he would often lie near me while I worked on the computer, and rarely missed a night at the foot of the bed. I would find him there in the morning. I like to think he will be the first to greet me again some day. Tucker died on December 4th, 2021.

These are the cats I have lost; too many of them. They will always be with me, but not in the way I want them to be. That will have to wait. Until then, I will miss them all, and I will remember them.